Living on a Prayer
by AzureFeather
Summary: A story set in the time before Dalamud's true form became apparent. Adventurers Kit Hallym and Rose Marceaux are used to facing danger together, but when she is taken from him it's a race to find her before evil claims her. Titled after an in-game quest.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Final Fantasy XIV is an online RPG, spiritual sequel to Final Fantasy XI. It's currently undergoing a complete redesign and is offline, to be released as "Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn". My story is set in a time before Dalamud's true identity was known and tries to capture just how people felt with an apocalypse hanging over them, getting closer each passing day.

Any comments and reviews are appreciated, as always. Thank you.

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**Prologue**

Dark times befall the land of Eorzea. The same cataclysmic fate threatens every one of its cities and settlements, each beastmen clan nestled in rocky canyon and on windy scree. Even the subterranean Kobold are not safe, subsiding on the false belief that they'll survive deep in the heart of the world. For the effects of this coming disaster will impact all living things, one way or another.

To people in ages past, the name "Dalamud" meant almost nothing. The lesser of Hydaelyn's two moons, it meekly followed the much larger Menphina through the heavens. For thousands of years civilisations would look up into the night sky and barely notice Dalamud; a tiny white speck lost amongst countless stars.

Eorzeans today have no such luxury. Dalamud dominates their view, larger than the sun and summarily choking the skies with thick, cloying clouds. It sits amongst its charges as an immense orb of red, striated by purple fault lines with its perfect spherical aspect scarred by tower-like structures; clear signs of an artificial make. Whatever purpose this monstrosity hoped to fulfil has now been lost in the annals of time, destroyed as readily as its makers in the Fourth Umbral Era.

Those who claim to see the future talk of Dalamud colliding with Eorzea; blazing a path with meteorites that will char and scorch the land to a black nothingness. The Eorzean Alliance, comprised of representatives of each Grand Company, has tried to maintain calm amongst the populace of the three big cities – Limsa Lominsa, Gridania and Ul'dah – but behind closed doors, they too know the truth; Dalamud is falling and there's nothing anyone can do. Eorzea's beast races remain the same as they ever were; isolated and refusing to co-operate, their hope placed avidly in the eikons' power.

For some people, the rumours are too much to bear and they disappear without a trace, or worse. Others hope against hope that something can be done, that a last minute saviour will arrive and avert the coming apocalypse. Until then, people have to go on living and attempt to ignore the colossal harbinger of doom hanging in their once-beautiful skies like a festering demon.


	2. Symbols of Faith

**Chapter One – Symbols of Faith**

Adventurers are a common sight across Eorzea. They come in all shapes and sizes, every creed and colour imaginable. It's one of the few Eorzean professions into which you can enter from any background or social status and still be treated as an equal. As an adventurer, you make your own fortune. The life is often dangerous but you are tested on the merits of your skill, your ability to adapt to a situation and willingness to go where others have not, to push the boundaries set by those who went before.

In comparison, very few adventurers rise through the ranks of their chosen Grand Company and earn the title of Lieutenant, but those that do are well-known and respected. They are employed on a freelance basis and required only to serve during impending crises unlike full-time members of a Company, but they are just as important.

Two such individuals are riding across the plains of Upper La Noscea at a leisurely pace. The chestnut-haired Midlander is mounted on a chocobo in Immortal Flames battledress and is wearing light travellers' garb. Just being outside in the sunshine is filling him with vigour, rousing his spirit. He glances across at his companion and sighs at the Wildwood female's beauty, natural and uncultivated. A brisk summer breeze picks up and strokes its ethereal tendrils through sun-dappled hair, blazing rubicund in the late afternoon light.

Around ten minutes after passing Camp Iron Lake, they reach their destination and dismount the chocobos. This area of Vylbrand is seldom visited because it's so remote and there's little to see, aside from meadows and wide open grassland. Stony ridges rise and fall to form an uneven landscape whilst tough plains grass clutches onto whatever foothold it can get, desperately. Thin, hungry-looking trees with blade-shaped foliage spring up at ground level and there's the occasional burst of meadow flowers, incandescent amongst the grey and stubborn green.

Bridles are removed from both birds so they can graze and then the pair set off towards a narrow cleft in the rock; a passageway into a small clearing at the end of the plateau. It's bare and empty except for the glowing symbol carved high into the wall. This is one of thirteen such places spread out over Eorzea and each bears a divine mark of the Twelve; gods and goddesses that most people across the continent look to. Even those who do not believe make this pilgrimage in the hopes of finding something, spiritual or otherwise.

A simple shepherd's crook represents Oschon the Wanderer, god of mountains and vagrants. It shimmers and dances in place, spills out blue light that warms cold stone and illuminates what little greenery there is with an azure hue. As the couple walk forwards into the clearing, they both stare up at the symbol and take in the sight of their tenth such wonder, having travelled far and wide on the journey thus far.

"It's very peaceful here," the Midlander says as they come to a halt.

"Yeah." His partner's response is almost a sigh, threaded with concealed emotion.

"Let's see." The man pulls a small notebook out of his backpack and flips through the pages. "Oschon. Commands the element of wind along with Llymlaen the Navigator. Depicted as a carefree ranger with a yew bow. Paramour of Menphina the Lover. Ruler of mountains, god of beggars and drifters. Patron of the tenth month. Hmm. So do you feel anything at this one?"

The Wildwood Elezen is silent at first, just looking at the symbol and turning her head slightly, almost as if trying to gain another perspective. Instinctively, the man seeks out his companion's hand at her side and their fingers enmesh whilst he waits for an answer.

"No," she states finally. "And we only have three left to visit."

"Ah. Well, we still have a ways to go. At least the next two are really close and then we'll set out for Mor Dhona. Should only take us a week longer at best. Maybe it's simply the act of visiting these places that Archon Louisoix needs, like not actually believing in the gods but making the journey that does it."

"Maybe."

As she leans on her partner for support, he senses weariness and fatigue bleeding from her like a dark miasma. How could he have missed this? Was he so focused on their goal that he'd forgotten what was really important? Not once during the journey had she complained at the pace or asked for a break, but now it was beginning to dawn on him just how much this all means to her. To them both.

They'd ridden for several hours today and only eaten meagre rations on the roadside, stopped twice to draw clean water from a well. What with everything else happening, she must be exhausted. Under a burgeoning sense of guilt, he turns towards the Elezen and makes a silent promise.

"Wait here," the Midlander says, gazing apologetically into her sage green eyes. "Let me get the birds."


	3. A Place to Rest

**Chapter Two – A Place to Rest**

In these times, when Dalamud looms so large in the skies, it never really gets dark any more. Dense clouds that shroud the red moon diffuse its sickly crimson light throughout the sky and blanket out the stars, dull sun and moonlight both.

Regardless, twilight is slowly creeping its way across the land when both adventurers and their chocobo mounts reach the tiny hamlet of Wineport. They exchange greetings with two Yellowjacket guards at the entrance and head down a winding, narrow path leading to the settlement itself.

Smoke billows lazily from chimneys and the distinctive clang of a living blacksmith's forge rings through the air. In the middle of the yard, a campfire crackles and bursts with dancing firelight. People talk as they finish their daily tasks and put away tools for another day. Wineport seems small and unimportant, but underneath the ground are wine cellars and a network of tunnels, pressing vats, fermentation tanks, store rooms and pantries all hidden away from prying bandit eyes.

Upon seeing the visitors making their way slowly out of the passageway, one Wineport resident finishes loading barrels onto a cart and moves around it. Instantly mistrustful of strangers, his whole demeanour changes in a flash when he recognises who they are. A grin spreads across his face and he motions in welcome, offering the new arrivals a plump-fingered wave before he heads up to meet them.

"Well, I'll be. Flame Lieutenant Kit Hallym in my hamlet. And his scarlet-haired Serpent lass."

The Midlander dismounts his chocobo and walks up to the Roegadyn, holds out his hand in greeting with a smile. Instead, the larger man claps him on the shoulder with the force of a small landslide. Kit, having recovered well from the blow and laughing, helps the Wildwood female from her chocobo and takes the reins of both birds.

"What brings you out here then, pal?" the well-built resident asks and begins to lead them both towards the warmth and bright lights of his settlement.

"Just in the area, seeing the sights. We were hoping to stay the night, Syzfrusk, if you can spare the room of course."

Syzfrusk nods. "Sure can. But we ain't got nothing fresh to serve you for dinner as of yet. Me and Sizah were going hunting, if you want to come with."

It's common La Noscean practice to repay your hosts for their generosity and so Kit agrees to help without any hesitation. Part and parcel of being an adventurer is practising the customs of each place you end up in, after all. When both chocobos are unsaddled and set down to roost he heads out with the two Wineport hunters. Left alone with their host's wife Rostnblyss is the other adventurer.

Within their race, Roegadyn women and men vary greatly. Where the husband is broad, deep-voiced and stout with arms built like an Amalj'aa thigh, the wife is curved and shapely, delicate in a rugged sort of way. The only real feature they share are the blunt, flattened noses typical to every Roegadyn face.

Rostnblyss has hair the colour of crushed desert saffron, offsetting terracotta skin that marks her as a Hellsguard female. She sweeps around the kitchen with practiced ease, sharpening a knife here and stirring a huge laundry tub full of steaming water there. Disappearing briefly down to the cellar, she resurfaces and finally notices the Elezen woman waiting patiently by the front door.

"Evening kitten," Rostnblyss smiles. She shoves the containers she fetched from downstairs onto worktops and a table. "You can help me do veggies. What's yer name?"

"Rose. Marceaux. It's Rose Marceaux. Sorry."

Rostnblyss chuckles and plunks down a basket of muddy vegetables in front of the newcomer. "He told me you was shy. Said you need a little coaxing to come out of yer shell. Right miss, water's over there. Peel these and put 'em in the pot when done. Chop the carrots, chuck 'em in the stew. We got no airs and graces with food in this part o' the world. Easy, ain't it?"

Rose nods silently and gets to work. She smiles to herself and gathers a selection of salt leeks from the basket. If only her cooks could see this. What would they think of an esteemed luminary chef and the owner of Gridania's Cornucopia restaurant preparing vegetables like an apprentice?

Meanwhile, high upon a plateau outside of Wineport four figures lie on their bellies in the darkness. Still as rocks and black as sin they remain undetected even with Dalamud's foul presence radiating overhead. Four pairs of eyes watch the Midlander with the bow go off to hunt with a Roegadyn and a Miqo'te. That means he left the female behind, but she's still protected. They can wait. They would wait. It will only be a matter of time until his guard slips and the female's alone. Vulnerable. Easy prey.


	4. Staying with the Winemakers

**Chapter Three – Staying With the Winemakers**

"So he comes back later on and kicks up a fuss. Wants his money back. I fair warned him before he bought it, bitter as goobbue piss unless you's using it for cooking. He was bloody furious."

"You're kidding," Kit laughs as they're all sitting around a table eating dinner, "Then what?"

"Said it was my fault his fancy dinner party was ruined. Ain't my problem if he's tight-fisted so I sent him packing. O'course, he put up a fight first. Tried to strong-arm me."

Rose, quiet until now, glances across at Syzfrusk's colossal biceps and frowns. "Literally?"

Syzfrusk nods. He pauses to take a mouthful of ale then launches back into his story, regaling the group with tales of epic fist-fights, battles of keen wit and of course, feats of outstanding Roegadyn bravery. It's best to take such stories with a large pinch of salt; as anyone who knows this particular kind of Eorzean will tell you, they have a penchant for exaggerating the truth.

Rose and Kit are sitting on one side of the heavy oak table with their hosts at the other. Between them lay servings of various buttered vegetables, mashed popoto, carrot stew, loaves of crusty white bread and at the centre, a broad platter filled with roast meat. The hunters had brought back with them a selection of aldgoat cuts and a plump young dodo, the perfect size to feed four. Sizah Epocan, the third hunter, had taken a few steaks and gone off to her own quarters.

The Midlander is enjoying the conversation and the atmosphere of the cosy room they're in, some sort of communal dining area. Beside him, Rose is absently pushing peas around her plate with a fork, making no real effort to eat anything. Ever since he got back from the hunt she'd been somewhat distant and he put part of it down to her natural shyness around strangers, but there was something else. Kit reaches under the table and takes Rose's hand, causing her to turn and meet his chestnut eyes.

"You okay?" he asks, smiling at that beautiful Elezen face. She nods. "You're not eating much."

"Had a bowl of stew and some bread before you got back. I'm fine, Kit."

"I hope so. What did you get up to whilst we were out? Did you help out around here?"

"Went to check Mori and Yami, fed them some greens each. I think Yami may have sprained his left foot. He was trying not to put weight onto that side, but we can check properly in the morning." It takes Rose a few seconds to realise why Kit is still looking at her expectantly. "Oh, right. I helped Rostnblyss chop and peel the vegetables."

Kit grins and mentions in a hushed voice about how that must have been exciting for such an experienced chef, then reaches across to the platter and spears a few slices of meat with his fork. Transporting it carefully to Rose's plate, he squeezes her hand before withdrawing to his side of the table.

"Try some of this roast. It's delicious. So juicy and tender, perfectly seasoned. I'd go so far as to say it's even better than the stuff you serve to paying customers back home, dear." His carefully aimed teasing has its intended effect and Rose scowls at him, much to his amusement. Good, Kit thinks, she's not so exhausted after all.

Much later on and after a dessert of faerie apple tart, everyone has retreated to bed, but Rose cannot sleep. She's lying awake in the pitch black room listening to the wind whistle around the hamlet, shaking tree branches in its wake and catching on a loose gate somewhere, causing it to clatter shut and then open again moments later. Their guest accommodation isn't spacious but fits a purpose and is nicely decorated. A pleasant aroma of Althyk lavender perfumes the air and the bed linen is made of fine cotton, comfortably clean and soft.

They've stayed in some immeasurably awful places during their adventuring days, the woman recalls. On the run from bandits and snatching fragmented sleep on rock-hard earth, each having to alternate guard duty. Hiding under a pile of filthy, tattered sheets in a pirates' den. Two days stuck at sea in the hold of an illegal cargo ship with mouldy sour-smelling barrels. Or even that time they were caught in a morbol nest and it rained incessantly. They got soaked through and miserably huddled together until nightfall when the huge, carnivorous plants dozed off into a torpor.

Kit is curled protectively around Rose as always. He's sound asleep and his breathing is soft, slowly rhythmic. The couple's devotion is well-known throughout the Grand Companies of Eorzea; people remark that where one goes, the other is sure to be close. Ever since they fell in love each and every experience they've been through together has only served to bond them closer, to make their relationship even more unshakable in times of adversity. They've been able to overcome every obstacle thus far in their lives, but this was before Dalamud saturated the sky with its evil brume.

To Rose, the notion that they're powerless against this one threat doesn't sit well. Believing that every problem has a solution, she insists it's just a matter of time until one's found. Dalamud could fall any day now, so there isn't time to waste on apathy or hopelessness. This journey they're on, whilst spiritual in nature, is a last resort for Rose. She doesn't believe the gods exist, let alone will help, but her steadfast refusal to give up drives her on and tempers her will. Someone has to fight for the future.

In that last second of consciousness before sleep finally takes her, Rose is at peace. No matter what happens in the coming months, she has Kit; her soulmate.


	5. Dawn and Duty

**Chapter Four – Dawn and Duty**

Rostnblyss and most of Wineport are up and active when Rose emerges from the guest room the next morning. Kit is still asleep and she smiles at the memory of him lying there on his back, dark chestnut hair all ruffled and unkempt, that peaceful look on his face.

"Morning miss." Rostnblyss is standing at the hearth and stirring a huge cast iron pot with one hand on her hips. "Breakfast's on the table if you want. Eat yer fill, got plenty to last us."

Rose takes a seat at the same table around which they had dinner last night. Half a loaf of bread rests on a wooden board with various pots of preserves. A slab of butter the colour of summer sunshine sits impaled with a silver knife and then there are several types of cheese on offer, all creamy-looking and delicious. Right in the middle of the table is a copper teapot with a steaming hot spout.

"Good morning. Thank you for letting us stay the night."

Their host nods in silent acknowledgement. Rose pours a cup of tea and stirs in milk from a dainty earthenware jug, of fine delicate make the likes of which you wouldn't expect to find in a typical Roegadyn house. Noting that the tea is Thanalan in origin, she cradles the cup in her hand and delights in its warmth, the strong tang of desert flavours rising up in curls of steam.

"What are you making?" Rose asks, her sage green eyes appraising the other woman's efforts.

Rostnblyss looks across and shrugs, mouth twisting up in displeasure. "Marmalade but these oranges is a bit sour. Bought the job lot for cheap in Limsa last week, but thinking I shoulda saved me money for something more worthwhile."

Rose sips her tea and hesitates before she speaks, still somewhat shy. "If you put chopped pearl ginger in during cooking it will take off the bitter edge and give it a little heat. About a handful to every twenty oranges."

"That so, miss? I'll give it a try. I hear tell you's a cook. Hope dinner was alright but it's best we can do out here in the sticks." She pauses to change stirring arms. "Yer birds are still in the stable. Syzfrusk didn't want to spook 'em, but he's left a bag of veggie scraps by the door."

It's more of a sack than a bag and it's half full of lettuce, carrots and ruby tomatoes all in good condition. Rose leads both birds out into the blossoming dawn, towards the water trough and piles of vegetables she's divided equally. Taking the opportunity to watch Kit's chocobo Yami on the move, she notices he still has the slight limp. Mori, her bird, is his usual effervescent self and nuzzles against his mistress's neck lovingly, cheeping in the same way a chick does to its mother.

"I love you too," Rose smiles and brushes her fingers through his feathered crest. "Go eat."

Chocobos have two large toes at the front and one at the back, all clawed. They're large flightless avians that rely on speed to outrun predators and are also pack-birds used to transport goods and people, so any injury to the leg has to be taken very seriously. She leads Yami to his breakfast and then sits cross-legged on the grassy ground to get a closer look.

The upper surface appears to be fine, but lifting the foot up Rose sees the normally grey scaled skin is red and swollen. There's a lesion and in the middle of the wound a sliver of black pokes out. At first glance it looks like a roseling's thorn, but it could be a shard of metal or any other piece of detritus lying about the meadow. Her patient twitches and she hears the low rumble in his throat; a sound of pain or discontent in a chocobo.

"Oh sweetie," Rose says out loud, stroking Yami's leg softly. "Bet that hurts, huh?"

"Bet what hurts? Is he okay?" It's Kit. His unruly hair is back to its normal state and he appears washed, freshly dressed. Helping Rose from the ground, he strokes Yami on the beak and then slides his arms around the Elezen, pulling her close. Rose explains about the object in Yami's foot and says that he should probably not be ridden. Any more pressure than normal might lame his leg and then he'd be out of action for a week or so.

"Hmm. Our hostess says you didn't eat any breakfast." Kit frowns at his soulmate's frustrated sigh. She is obviously displeased at being ratted out but the Midlander doesn't care about that. "You have to eat. Especially now that you..."

"I know," Rose cuts him off, "I will."

"Good. You'd better." His hand brushes softly along her cheek and further beyond into scarlet hair. Their eyes lock and pulses quicken as both anticipates what comes next. Because they're alone behind the stables, Kit draws Rose into a kiss. With every breath he breathes in the scent of her, warm and rich and evocative, full of powerful memories. He loves this woman endlessly and is determined to show her just how much, pouring every onze of himself into the gesture. Rose replies in kind and soon the dawn is giving way to fully-fledged morning.

When they part, it's as if the world has sprung into life all around them and they've only just realised. Songbirds sit in the trees and greet the sun as it rises into a sky already claimed by Dalamud. The air, clean and fresh with the last lingering remnants of dawn dew, carries with it the scent of awakening flowers. If it wasn't for the coming apocalypse hanging in the sky so possessively it would be a beautiful morning.

"Hi." Rose stares into the eyes of her lover, hazel hued and gorgeously deep; the windows into his soul, for the most part so closely guarded.

"Oh hi." Kit grins. To feel her so close at this early hour is a reward in itself.

"You know, more than a few people have asked when you're going to make an honest woman of me."

"Is that so?" the Midlander asks, trying to keep his voice uninterested. Teasing Rose is one of his favourite pastimes. "Maybe one day, perhaps. You know how I hate the thought of being tied down."

Rose stares at him with an open-mouthed expression, taken unaware at his allusion to more private matters. She doesn't have time to speak before there's a shout from the main courtyard.

"Lieutenants! Forgive my intrusion. You're to report to Maelstrom Command as soon as you can." Rose and Kit merely exchange a curious glance. The man looks out of breath and leans against the stable with one hand. He's a Highlander with scruffy blond hair and dressed like a travelling merchant, hardly the appearance of an official Grand Company messenger. Are things so bad in Eorzea now that the upper echelons have started to disguise their runners?

"Your Grand Companies have missives for you. Only, pray be careful. The path to Limsa is deathly perilous as of now. Aggressive elementals have appeared all around Cedarwood and are attacking people indiscriminately."


	6. Elementary

**Chapter Five – Elementary**

Rose Marceaux sits alone in a briefing room somewhere in Maelstrom Command. The large panelled windows so typical in this city allow light into the room in great quantities. White sandstone, ebony wood and crimson form a perfectly balanced décor, bright and clean cut. Maelstrom flags hang from the walls and ceiling, pennants of a black longboat on red and fringed with gold trimming.

Gulls scream beyond the confines of the room, their shadowy forms dipping and diving past the window like a hail of angry bees. There's the bellow of a blaring horn and even further off, the bell on some distant harbour tolling to let sailors know their ship is ready to sail. The sound and scent of salted water, lapping endlessly at docks and the hulls of massive sailing vessels. For Limsa Lominsa is a thalassocracy; a nation built on and around the sea. From the rich fishing industry to shipbuilding and cargo freighting by boat, most everything in this city draws its origins from the ocean waves.

For an Order of the Twin Adders lieutenant, being kept waiting so long is almost an insult, but just as Rose rises from the armchair the door opens and through it walks someone dressed in the ochre and yellow of her Grand Company. She recognises the Miqo'te as one Serpent General Tsun Mhakarraka.

"Lieutenant." Tsun nods his head and motions for Rose to sit in the armchair. "How are you?"

"Fine sir, but that's not why you asked me here, is it?" Tsun folds his arms behind him and begins to pace the room slowly. His jet black tail, hanging from underneath his officer's overcoat, swings as he walks. Adventurers normally have a carefree attitude when it comes to Grand Company formality, but he knows this particular Adder well enough to recall she hates standing on ceremony.

"Your assignment is to report any suspicious activity in and around Limsa Lominsa whilst you're in the area. Anything at all. Surely you've heard of the elementals that have suddenly appeared at Cedarwood?" Rose nods once. "Go observe them and by no means try to engage them. They are extremely powerful but they don't seem to do anything other than attack passers-by. We've had fifteen casualties already today. Your partner is getting the same briefing."

"Understood." Rose pauses, unsure of whether to ask her question. "How did you find us, sir?"

"Let's just say, in these uncertain times, we need eyes everywhere. Pay it no mind," he replies.

Tsun walks up to Rose and folds slender arms across his chest. As a Miqo'te, he stands about six ilms shorter than the Elezen – who herself is of average height – yet he commands absolute respect. Known throughout the Grand Company as a fair but stringent taskmaster, the general isn't a man to waste time nor resources. His piercing sulphur-eyed stare rivets Rose in place. "Is there anything you wish to tell me, lieutenant?

A rush of cold terror floods through her body as Tsun stands there like a statue, awaiting a reply. Do they know? How could they know? Is this some sort of test to see if she's withholding information? Rose's mind is racing as she tries to meet his gaze but she is saved by the interruption of the door bursting open. Standing in the open space is a Maelstrom officer.

"Sir. There's been another one. Storm Corporal Lambert wants to speak to you immediately."

Tsun nods and tells Rose she's dismissed, but his gaze lingers on her for a few seconds more. When finally he's exited the room, the scarlet-haired Elezen remembers she has to breathe.

Much later, when night has overtaken the meadow and nocturnal predators are on the prowl, four figures sit in the darkness. They chatter excitedly about having seen the artefacts themselves. Both, at once! What sublime glory enshrouded in bitter sorrow! Such beautiful vestiges of power in the hands of unworthy filth, those blasphemous arrogant thieves.

When that sorrow turns to anger, to fury, talk turns more serious and then the real discussion begins. Soon, the adventurers will return home and pass beyond their reach. They have to act swiftly if they are to carry out her plan. It has to be flawless. In every sinister detail.


	7. Eleven Ways in Which to Lose Faith

**Chapter Six – Eleven Ways in Which to Lose Faith**

Even though Dalamud's proximity has effectively stopped all forms of weather throughout Eorzea, the following day is miserable nonetheless. A thick sea mist is drowning the lower level of the city, covering everything in a shroud of salted drizzle. Even on higher levels the air is moist and unpleasant to breathe, driving most tourists and non-local merchants indoors.

Rose and Kit are at their eleventh symbol, Llymlaen the Navigator. The curved blue icon, reminiscent of ocean waves, is carved into a marble plinth, which in turn is set into a fountain. Soaring atop the highest point is a crystal seagull, representing the free-flying spirit of all Lominsans and their origins beside the sea. Since they were drafted into duty by their Grand Companies only a day ago, both adventurers are dressed for battle in disciplines of their choice.

Rose wears the light armour of a dragoon, finely crafted from the purest drakeskin. Legs and feet are clad in dark adamantium scale mail - hard like diamond, but light as a feather – hands protected by rigid, lightweight gauntlets. Her head is ensconced in a helm much like a drake's crown; purple-scaled and with fluting horns billowing from the back. Kit Hallym, master blacksmith and armourer, is the artisan responsible for such beautiful and defensive works of art.

He, on the other hand, is dressed lightly as a black mage. Every piece of equipment a mage wears is designed specifically to facilitate spellcasting and focus mental faculties. Gemstones imbued with elemental power adorn the Midlander's wrists and hands, enhancing every iota of magical potency he might wield.

"I'm beginning to think this is all a waste of time," Rose sighs as she kneels before Llymlaen's symbol and traces one finger along the shimmering blue.

"We don't know yet, darling. Archon Louisoix will be able to tell us more when we return to Gridania. I honestly doubt he'd have sent us on this journey when he knows we don't believe in the gods and that we're unlikely to change our minds."

"I just..." Rose rises from the ground and turns to face her partner. "I hoped, you know? Didn't expect one of the gods to appear in front of us and grant our wishes, but I wanted something to happen. A sign to banish the darkness from my heart. Maybe even a sense of security, a reassurance that Dalamud isn't going to fall out of the sky tomorrow and burn us all to ash. We need conviction that we have the ability to change our fate."

She walks to the edge of the platform and gazes north at the great marauders' ship, the Astalicia, barely visible in amongst the fog. In Rose's stomach stirs an ill feeling. The more she thinks about their blighted future, the more it spreads until she can hardly breathe. Sometimes, the weight of hopelessness is a crushing burden to bear.

Continuing on, Rose looks out to sea. "Those who survive will have to live in a wasteland of death, struggling to scrape a life from whatever's left. We have to try and save Eorzea, so that … future generations will have something to inherit."

She starts to cry and Kit moves to comfort her. Frustrated at the barrier of protection separating them, he pulls off her helm and drops it with a clatter, sliding his arms around her armour-clad waist. Rose tries to embrace him. She loses patience at the tough scale on her hands as it restricts her movement, so she unclips the gauntlets and throws them to the floor.

"I love you Rose," Kit says, staring into her tear-soaked eyes. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise. I'm right here with you, fighting alongside for our future. For everything we made together."

"Kit..." The Elezen sobs into his shoulder for a long time. Kit holds her tight, strokes gloved hands down silky scarlet hair and feels every shudder of breath, every anguished cry along with her. He has to be strong, no matter what it takes.

"Two more, okay?" he says after she's calmed down a little. Rose sighs deeply, nods. The Midlander wipes away her tears and strokes fingers through scarlet hair, tucking it gently behind his love's pointed ears. "We're saving the best till last apparently. Since Yami needs time to rest up, we can spend a few days in Limsa and relax. Sound good to you?"

"Yeah. Alright." Rose rests herself against Kit's forehead and takes a deep breath. "I saw Matlock and Somello earlier in the market wards. We're meeting them for dinner tonight, since they insisted."

"Oh really. Tonight?" Kit asks, his voice piqued with interest. Rose half hums, half sighs in acquiescence at his question. "Hmm. I guess I'll have to cancel that huge romantic gesture I had planned for us then. Dinner by the sea, a stroll along the pier at midnight and then back to our inn room with the bed covered in rose petals. It's okay though. We can do it another night."

Rose pulls back and stares at him with a torn expression, not knowing quite what to say. She had just presumed they'd be free and agreed, but perhaps she should have checked. Opening her mouth to speak, Kit grins and squeezes her around the waist, as much as he can through diamond-hard drakeskin and thinly-tanned peiste leather.

"It's so much fun to tease you," the Midlander says and kisses her before she can get too angry at him.

"You're mean," Rose sighs.

"Sometimes. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, but that did sound nice. The rose petals and such." Kit smiles at the disappointed tone in her voice and remarks that she shouldn't dismiss the idea of it happening just yet.


	8. In the Dark of Night

**Chapter Seven – In the Dark of Night**

Despite each of Eorzea's city-states being completely different in culture and appearance, they all share a commodity; an undercurrent of poverty and destitution. No matter how prosperous and affluent a city is, there are always those at the bottom of the social hierarchy. Thieves, murderers, bandits, smugglers and low-rate mercenaries. Not to say everyone in this social grouping falls into one of those dark professions, but a great many do.

One such figure sits in the darkness next to a pile of crates. Many long years evading capture by the Yellowjackets has taught him how to hide in the shadows and blend into the night. This is a man for whom life is never easy; each day is a race to find food, to survive until nightfall, to outlast fellow cut-throats and thieves in this dangerous career choice.

This morning he thought it was going to be another of those days until a man dressed in a brown cloak approached him at the Sea Rat, a dingy pub down in the poor district of Limsa Lominsa. A fat pouch of coins was placed onto the table, the terms of the contract were clearly outlined and now here the thief is, watching his marks from the anonymity of the shadows.

One is a Wildwood female with shoulder-length red hair, average height and curves in all the right places. Beautiful, he has to admit, although Elezen aren't really his type. Never leaving her side is a Midlander with dark brown hair and a plain expression, masking a vigilance in surreptitiously scanning his surroundings. The thief thinks briefly of what would happen should the other Hyur disappear and the woman be left in his care, but then he thinks better of it. Don't confront them, he's been told. They're Grand Company and the last thing the thief wants is the Maelstrom on his tail.

He wonders if these people have ever struggled in life. Have they ever woken up and not known where their next meal is coming from? Clad in silk, in shiny scale armour and warm, thick garments, eating food of such decadence that it may as well be a dream to him; do these people know the true value of all they have? The thief claims the clothes on his back and a secret stash of old coins hidden in Bloodshore as his own; a pittance compared to the riches on display here.

When he's watched the Elezen and Hyur for a few bells, the thief heads back to the docks and finds the man in the brown cloak again. After all the information has been handed over, he starts to get impatient and wants his money. In his mind, the thief has already spent the five thousand gil on ale and women, on good food for a while and maybe even a proper bed.

At first he doesn't feel it. But then, an unpleasant cold like the bite of an icy winter's morning and the thief glances down to see that there's a knife embedded in his chest. He tries to think, to work a way out of this but his mind isn't working properly. The dim awareness that he's falling backwards into the sea and then an almost serene calm where he realises there's nothing he can do about it. Now the Yellowjackets will finally have their man, washed up on the beach and unable to run any more.

Outside of the city, just as the night is giving way to the first hint of dawn, four figures sit eating in the darkness. When the man in the brown cloak comes across them, he decides to stow his morbid curiosity about their meal and immediately states his business; he's not here to waste time.

One of the figures rises from the floor. Tallest of the group, it approaches the intruder like a ghost, silent and swift, still clutching the unidentifiable hunk of meat. Fresh blood drips down its face and off its chin, catching Dalamud's florid glow as it runs thickly. An irritable sound and then a question, barked in the strange accent of the figure's homeland.

"Today," the brown-cloaked man responds without emotion. One nod of the head and he's heading back towards Limsa Lominsa. A long day lies ahead and there's much to prepare.


	9. Diverting Attentions

**Chapter Eight – Diverting Attentions**

Moraby Bay in Lower La Noscea is the resting place of the twelfth symbol. On each side, cliffs rise and fall sharply before dipping out of sight beneath the Indigo Deep, topped here and there with rough patches of grass. Seabirds patrol a lazy route around their peninsula homes, flying slowly over a scattering of rocks that break the water's surface like the teeth of some great beast. And there, just on the horizon, lies the almost imperceptible contour of The Cieldalaes; an archipelago of great beauty, now home to Eorzean Alliance training grounds. Over all of this, Dalamud looms like a false king sitting in amongst a throne of rust-coloured clouds.

Kit Hallym is reading from the field notebook with Rose at his side. "Nymeia the Spinner. Commands the element of water along with Thaliak the Scholar. Depicted as a weaver dressed in white silk and adopted patron of Sunsilk Tapestries, the Weavers' Guild in Ul'dah. Said to be the watcher of celestial bodies and the goddess of fate." Glancing up at the red moon, he remarks wistfully, "Not ironic at all."

Slipping the notebook into a pouch on his hip, the Midlander glances across at Rose. She's once again in dragoon battledress whereas he's opted to be a warrior, clad in argent cobalt plate and chainmail. Even though his companion is dressed head to toe in scale Kit can't get over how beautiful she is. So untouchable and resolute, glaring at Dalamud as if she could tear it from the sky with her very gaze. Only he knows how tender Rose can be, how passionate and unique. Such a prize is the result of getting past her defensive barriers; a feat precious few ever achieve.

Though, since the incident this morning, the Wildwood woman has been deep in thought. Passing through the Mizzenmast, they'd been approached by a distraught-looking Plainsfolk woman. In her tiny hand was clutched a picture of her son, missing for two weeks and last seen in this very city visiting friends, she said. Barely able to keep back tears, the little lady had pleaded with them for help and, since they were "adventurers just like him", could they keep an ear out for any news?

"I know his face," Rose had said afterwards, her brow furrowed as she struggled to find the memory. "We've met him before. But where?" And that was all she could remember. They'd left the city shortly after, but Kit knew his partner wouldn't stop thinking until she'd found the answer.

Despite Moraby Bay being the penultimate location on the list, Rose appears upbeat as they step onto the Procession of Terns, Limsa Lominsa's bridge to the mainland. Kit, for his part, is just happy to see his companion smile, to laugh and be herself again. Ever since the talk last night, it seems a weight has been lifted off her shoulders and she's in a much better mood.

They're discussing the evening's plans and passing through the guardhouse when a Twin Adders enlistee hails Rose by name. Official Grand Company business, he says, and asks the Flame Lieutenant to step aside. His manner is unusually brusque and there's something about the man's posture, how he tries to shield his face from the Midlander that is unsettling. Between the soldier's cap and high-collared overcoat, Kit catches a glimpse of blue-grey skin and elongated ears. Add that to the guard's height and it all points to him being a Duskwight Elezen.

"Oh, hey. I know you!" a voice to the right pipes cheerfully. Standing against the wall is a Lalafell man with bright eyes and a beaming grin on his little face. He's dressed in a Yellowjacket uniform, the red and yellow colours of Limsa Lominsa's law enforcement brigade. "You're Flame Lieutenant Kit Hallym." The Midlander nods, but is interrupted before he can speak. "I'm Bibiraka and that's your girlfriend, Serpent Lieutenant Rose Marceaux. She's very beautiful. Look at that gorgeous spear on her back. Those things are a rarity, sir."

"Hey. I'm sorry." Kit crouches down in politeness, shortening the distance between the Lalafell man and himself. "Where do you know us from?"

"Oh, you were in last month's Harbour Herald. Miss Molkot did a feature on inspiring young Eorzeans and she featured both of you, some brave Roegadyn lad from Ul'dah and a load of other faces I don't rightly remember at the moment. But you two I know." Bibiraka points a finger at the Midlander then at Rose, who is still talking to the evasive man. "You helped bring down the last great buffalo sighted around Bald Knoll."

Kit smiles at the memory, one straight out of happier times. He looks across at Rose and his unease returns. "Do you know this guy?" he asks. In hindsight, it sounds like a stupid question as the Yellowjacket is on duty and this soldier is presumably posted here too.

"Actually, no. Keeps to himself and never speaks." The Lalafell man strokes his chin thoughtfully, as if trying to remember something. "Asked my supervisor, cos I thought it was a bit odd. Said his name was Serpent Private … ah now, what was it?"

Rose turns then and catches the Midlander's eye, leading him out of the guardhouse. She reaches forward and grasps Kit's hands, squeezes them as if apologising for something.

"Apparently there is some disturbance at Aleport and I'm required to assist," she says with a sigh.

"Adders only. You sure? And it's an official order from some random recruit posted at a gatehouse?" Kit frowns. The silent promise he made back at Oschon's symbol warns him against letting her attend this duty alone and especially because it demands physical effort. On the other hand though, it may provide a distraction from the thoughts he knows weigh heavily on Rose's mind. He sees her nurturing that troubled look when she thinks no-one's watching.

Rose shrugs her shoulders diffidently. Her eyes betray the fact that she'd rather stay with him. "It's odd, but we're on duty. Look sweetheart, I won't be long, okay? It's only Aleport. When I get back, you and I can go for that romantic dinner you've been promising me."

"Sure," Kit says, smiling as he pulls the Elezen close. They kiss softly. "Just be careful. I love you."

When Rose sets off alone, the Midlander watches her disappear into the distance, off to the far end of the bridge. Something doesn't feel right. Before dinner reservations, he'll go check with her Grand Company about those orders, just to be certain.


	10. A Snake in the Grass

**Chapter Nine – A Snake in the Grass**

"Kobold attack. Raided the hamlet stores, but nothing the local militia couldn't handle. What is this about, Flame Lieutenant?" Serpent General Tsun Mhakarraka asks of the warrior standing before him. He's just gotten out of a particularly long Alliance meeting and those are always stressful. Dealing with fickle politicians isn't the general's favourite part of the job.

Kit describes in detail the incident and all throughout the conversation, Tsun's brow furrows into an ever-deepening frown. When the Midlander stops talking, Tsun beckons to one of the meeting rooms and closes the crimson-panelled door behind them. Pointing to an armchair, the Miqo'te puts one hand to his ear and speaks into a linkshell, issuing orders in a hushed tone.

"You were right to come to us, lieutenant." Tsun walks to a chair opposite and sits down, his eyes fixed on the other man. A curt nod in Kit's direction. "Where's your Garuda's Van?"

Not quite understanding, the Midlander frowns thoughtfully. "Stored away safely. Why?"

"I am guessing Ms. Marceaux was in possession of her Garuda's Beak when she went off to Aleport." Tsun watches the expression on the Hyur's face carefully. If there's one thing he's learned in all his long years of service, it's that you shouldn't take things for granted. Never assume the facts.

"Yes, but what's that got to do with anything? Have you been listening to me?" Kit asks tersely.

Tsun reclines back into the chair and appraises the situation in his head. Satisfied with the Midlander's honest reaction, he gestures towards the closed door but never takes his eyes off the other man.

"I've already sent a group to search the road between Bearded Rock and Skull Valley, but I fear it may be too late. Serpent Lieutenant Marceaux may very well have walked straight into a trap."

"What..." Kit stops, bemused. Thoughts whirr furiously in his mind, a hundred questions ask themselves at once. Is she really in danger? Did he willingly send her off into a trap? Did the Grand Companies know about all this? Has he ignored the signs once again? As terror begins to coil around his insides like an ice cold serpent, he panics and stands up suddenly. Kit turns his back on the Miqo'te and storms towards the door. "I have to go find her."

"Please wait and I will explain," Tsun says in a voice that is almost too calm. When the other man ignores him, his voice transforms into a fierce snarl. "Sit down, Flame Lieutenant."

Kit hesitates by the door, one hand resting on it rebelliously. Nothing is going to stop him but then he sees the look in the Miqo'te's eyes. Sharp and ferocious like acid-yellow daggers, they glare at the Midlander unflinchingly and then just at the edges is a softness, barely concealed. It speaks silently of compassion and regret, even guilt. Everything Kit feels pulling at himself. He reluctantly walks back to the plush crimson armchair and sits down, his gaze locked onto that of the general's.

Tsun starts from the beginning. He tells of the recent kidnappings throughout Eorzea, how each victim is completely different except for one shared fact; they all possess artefacts of the wind primal Garuda. The Grand Companies have known about it for some time and have been trying to find those responsible, on the quiet. Only the highest ranking individuals in the Maelstrom, Immortal Flames and Twin Adders are privy to the real extent of the investigation. They've narrowed it down to an inside job, a professional within the ranks. Whoever is carrying out the kidnappings is very well informed and an expert at covering his or her tracks.

"The fact that Ms. Marceaux is female and that she has you, a partner who also owns a Garuda artefact, is unprecedented. We believe the primal herself is ultimately behind all of the acts, using third parties to kidnap adventurers who have bested her in battle for some form of revenge. As you well know, that particular primal is extremely vindictive and cruel, sadistic even. She thrives on torturing her victims and..."

"You're not putting my mind at ease here," Kit snaps, but Tsun merely holds up one hand. The Midlander rises from the chair again and paces the room, unable to sit still.

"Please let me finish. As a Gridanian you should know the extent of Garuda's cruelty, how she delights in killing women and children first so the men are forced to watch. Ms. Marceaux is effectively a bargaining chip for her, as she wants your Van too, but you lie beyond the reach of the primal's claws and those of her agents. In that one fact lies our chance, however slim."

Just then, there's a swift knock at the door and in walk two Maelstrom soldiers. Between them with his hands bound is the recruit that had given Rose the order to assist at Aleport. Kit flies across the room and is at the man's throat in an instant, pinning him forcefully to the wall.

"Where is she! What did you do to her!" he shouts into the Duskwight Elezen's face. The prisoner looks terrified and tries to back away, unfortunately trapped at the behest of a madman. Kit's voice dips low and dangerous. "You'd better start talking or so help me, I will rip out your heart. Right here."

To his credit, Serpent General Tsun Mhakarraka doesn't intervene. He listens to the whispered update from one of the Maelstrom soldiers and then dismisses them both. Kit's particularly aggressive style of interviewing a suspect is interesting to say the least, and surprisingly effective. Although it's not the confession either of them seek, there's much to be said for the raw fury of a man torn from his soulmate.


	11. One Man's Plan Gone Awry

**Chapter Ten – One Man's Plan Gone Awry**

One moment Rose Marceaux is dreaming about the darkness and the next she's waking up in it. Remaining perfectly still where she lay, the dragoon tries to take stock of her surroundings but finds only inky blackness staring back. The shock of blindness alone is enough to set off a chain reaction of fear, fuelled by the realisation that her hands are bound and there's a gap in her memory. With no knowledge of where she is or how she came to be here, Rose tries to quell the rising panic inside.

Grand Company training for hostage situations dictates that the first thing an officer should do is learn as much about their location as possible, with thorough attention to detail. Keeping a level head is next on the list and of utmost importance; without that, fear will run rampant and addle the mind. Since she cannot see anything beyond the darkness, Rose breathes deep and pours concentration into her other senses.

The air is thin and stuffy, heavy with the scent of timber and aether, that magical life energy residing in all things. Further out is the faint sweetness of meadow grass, a possible clue that she's still in Vylbrand. Daring to reach out hands and feet brings knowledge of an enclosed space, solid surfaces all around. Is this a wooden box? Pushing down another wave of panic, Rose steadies her breathing and continues on. At first, her sensitive Elezen hearing picks up nothing but the wanton pounding of her own heart, but then there's the soft rustle of someone breathing and a click-click noise, like metal on stone.

During an attempt to roll onto her back, whatever she's lying on shifts uneasily and scrapes against her scale mail armour. In Rose's ears the crunching sound of her movement is deafening and the woman freezes in terror, convinced she's brought attention to herself. Limbs burn with the sudden deadlock and muscles protest achingly but nothing happens; no-one comes to investigate. Eventually, muffled footsteps approach, their thudding tempo becoming clearer and heavier as the owner moves onto solid ground.

"I trust your delivery is acceptable," a man's voice calls out, possibly Elezen due to the deep tone. Rose hears the tinkle of tiny objects colliding with each other then a scuffling and shuffling of multiple feet. There's an impact like wood hitting stone, so forceful it sends vibrations through the floor.

"Yes." The next voice definitely isn't one spoken by the city folk of Eorzea. It sounds strained and too guttural, almost beast-like with a growling cadence. "Very good work."

"I've done what you asked and done it well. I want my money, all of it." The presumed-Elezen sounds impatient and almost a little nervous, his tone quivering around the edges. Tension hangs in the air. Even stuck inside a box in the dark, Rose can determine that it's not a friendly atmosphere at all.

"That is not acceptable," the foreign voice sneers and then all hell breaks loose. Clashing metal rings out loudly as weapons are drawn and put to use in a flurry of activity. Amidst cries of betrayal and strange bird-like screeches, Rose feels the ethereal taste of magic scorching the air. So pervasive and puissant is its power that it soaks through the confines of her imprisonment and awakens rebellion in the woman's mind. She tries to incant, but there's nothing; only muteness where a voice once was.

Outside the battle rages. Splintering metal and magical flares, the acrid stench of something burning. In the end, a strike that cleaves flesh and splinters bone seizes victory with a sickening crunch. Silence falls upon everything, deafeningly heavy like the impact of a muted waterfall. Voices squabble in a strange language and suddenly Rose is blinded by light as the door to her captivity is thrown wide open.

Eyes watering against the overpowering flare of daylight, she feels herself dragged up to an upright position. Shapes start to form out of the white miasma and colour filters back into the world. Before her stands a figure perhaps six fulms tall, its head all twisted horns and feathered headdress. Tourmaline beads and tiny bones jangle in a mass of necklaces wreathed about a scrawny neck sitting atop wide shoulders and a wiry, brown-skinned body. What little clothing there is for modesty is decorated with gold and ebony, whilst a pair of dead grey eyes stare down a beak into the Elezen's face.

"See what happens to smoothskins that get in our way." The Ixali seeress points with her staff to a dark mass on the ground. It is an Elezen man after all, lying prone in a pool of escaping blood. His body is shrouded in a brown cloak, but beneath that Rose sees the familiar ochre and yellow of her Grand Company colours. Taking a step forward, the seeress shoves the tip of her staff against Rose's breastplate roughly. "Don't try to run. Don't try to call for help. It won't work. Not with silencing collar around your neck. We'll see how clever your mate is and if he will follow."

Before she has time to even think, a rough-handed force from behind back spins the dragoon around and she sees her prison for the merest instance before being shoved back in. It's a typical merchant's cart, made of sturdy wood and with a deep hollowed-out belly for cargo. The hinged lid at the top can be locked and that's the only way in or out.

Trapped without means of escape, Rose lies in the darkness once more and closes her eyes. As thoughts race furiously in her mind, the heavy knowledge of betrayal sits there in the centre, cold like ice. What would make a man betray his own Grand Company to the Ixali? His own race, even. There was some mention of money but that made no sense, not with Dalamud large and threatening in the sky. If that calamitous entity has any say, in a few short months nothing will matter any more. And everyone knows you can't buy your way out of an apocalypse.

But the glint of summer sunshine revealed something else in the cart. The unstable surface on which Rose lays is not a solid object, but many glassy green reasons she has to be thankful for tough scale armour. For beneath her lies a bed of wind clusters, large crystalline masses of aetheric energy.


	12. A Friend Indeed

**Chapter Eleven – A Friend Indeed**

At the onset of another La Noscean dusk, a man stands alone at the edge of a terrace. High above Limsa Lominsa's cityscape, he leans on the white marble balustrade and stares out over the ocean with unseeing eyes. This has become routine for him now and it's the sixth such night he's spent up here. It isn't safe at the inn the Alliance had said, and they'd moved him to guest quarters in Northern Islands. The man protested strongly at first; he didn't want to abandon the room they'd shared together. That room with her armour in the wardrobe, hanging lifeless and empty now that its owner is lost; where the ghostly scent of the woman's perfume still lingers in the air, so tenuous and light like a memory left behind to taunt him.

Every day since her disappearance has been the same, over and over in some punishing test of spirit. The Grand Companies are still maintaining the silence they've upheld for each of the other disappearances - fourteen in total - and so public support is out of the question, but people are beginning to notice. They're used to seeing the Midlander with a scarlet-haired Elezen at his side, and in the absence of any hard facts they're speculating on reasons and theories, blatant guesswork acting as their foundation for idle hearsay.

Kit Hallym overhears this talk everywhere; whispered over pints of ale at the Mizzenmast, openly gossiped about by dockhands mending nets down on the pier and discussed quietly amongst diners at The Bismarck, intellectually as if it's some problem they need to solve. He wants to walk up to these people, who have no business in his affairs, and set them straight. To tell them that Rose Marceaux was kidnapped and she hasn't left him for another man, she hasn't eloped to Xelphatol to study rainbow basilisks and she most certainly hasn't flown to Dalamud on the back of a dragon to stop the red moon falling on Eorzea.

But he cannot, lest it scare off the spy in their midst and then Rose would be lost to him forever. As a sky devoid of any stars falls dark over the ocean, Kit lets out a heart-weary sigh and runs a hand through his brown hair. A knock at the door makes him look back into the guest room, furnished in red, white and black per the city's theme. When he doesn't respond, the doorknob clicks and turns of its own volition and pushes the door open, allowing a head to appear in the newly-created gap.

"Alright mate." The newcomer is a Midlander like Kit but lightly built with blond hair and sharp, defined features. Their long-time friend, Matlock Westfield. "Mind if I come in?"

"If you want," Kit says and drops into one of the armchairs by the blazing hearth. Matlock was once an adventurer too but decided to settle down and is now a full-time officer for the Maelstrom. Still in uniform, he sits down in the chair opposite the Flame Lieutenant and removes a wrapped object from his overcoat pocket.

"So, any news?" Matlock asks, trying to start up a conversation. Kit remains quiet and is staring at the floor, hands folded neatly in his lap. Only the crackling of burning wood permeates the silence between the two men; one feeling awkward and at a loss for words whilst the other struggles with an overburdened soul. Six days of growing despair have worn away at the latter and now he hardly feels like trying. Even the golden firelight dancing free from the hearth seems to avoid touching Kit for fear of being absorbed into darkness.

Matlock, unsure of what to say, glances down at the object in his lap. He'd wrapped it in brown felt to keep it from being damaged on the way over but now he is having second thoughts about revealing it at all. What if it makes the other man worse? He doesn't think it's worth the risk and is about to place it carefully back in his overcoat pocket when the Flame Lieutenant speaks.

"No. Different day, same thing."

"Fair enough, but you know Rose better than that. She's stronger than she looks."

Kit looks up at the other Midlander and sighs, the sound of his exhaled breath heavy with sorrow. Both chestnut-brown eyes shimmer with the promise of tears, held back valiantly by bravado. "Yeah." He stands up and walks to the fireplace, running his fingers along the white sandstone surface. "I stopped going to Maelstrom Command every few hours for updates."

"What? Why?"

"Cause I'm tired of seeing that look in their eyes, staring at me. I'm hearing that one unspoken question on their lips, asking why I'm still hoping when it's obvious she's dead somewhere, alone and cold in a ditch."

"You don't honestly believe that?" Matlock exclaims, rising up from the chair. Kit turns to face him and shrugs diffidently. He's already considered that and many other gruesome outcomes in the depths of his own despair, lying awake at night with a head full of thoughts. Orange light from the fire curls around the lieutenant's torso, flittering back and forth as if scared to linger in one place too long.

"Of course I don't, but staff on the desk at Maelstrom Command do. It's plain to see. They've given up on her. The only ones who seem to care at all are you and Somello and that Serpent General Tsun. He came to check on me earlier, said they sent a patrol all the way up to the base of O'Ghomoro."

"And?"

Kit moves away from the fire, drifting aimlessly about the room to keep himself distracted. "Not expected back till tomorrow morning, but we'll see."

Seeing his friend's barely composed demeanour, Matlock walks over to the Flame Lieutenant and grips his shoulder tightly. "She'll come back, mate. You'll find her, I'm sure of it." He pauses, pulls the parcel from his overcoat and hands it over. "Thought this might cheer you up but I'm not so sure now. Anyway, it's the griffon you both made for my birthday last year."

Kit looks up into his friend's eyes and asks, "Why are you giving me this back?"

"I remember when I showed it to a goblin merchant a few months back. He told me that it was of such a fine make he would have mistaken it for their own handiwork. When I told him two people worked on it together he said, and I quote, 'Two hearts, one soul. To make something as perfect as this, very rare.' And you know, goblins have been everywhere and have connections with every beast race, that kind of thing. So yeah, I thought it might remind you of her. Keep it for a while, Kit."

Amidst the inescapable sadness choking his heart, through the dark miasma clutching at his soul, an idea forms in Kit's mind. It grows and grows, frantically constructing itself with building blocks of hope and endless love, with excited anticipation, banishing any hint of doubt that forms.

"Mat," he says, grabbing his friend by both shoulders, "You've done it." and disappears out of the door, dashing down the dark corridor with every shred of haste his legs will afford him.


	13. Suffering and Hope

**Chapter Twelve – Suffering and Hope**

After an undetermined amount of time following the cart through the tunnels, the path slants upwards. For Rose, who has spent a lot of time up until now lying idle in the darkness, the pace is tough and her muscles burn. What little energy her body has is quickly spent and by the time they reach the tunnel exit, she almost collapses under the strain.

Onwards they push through the open maw of the cave entrance and into a late afternoon landscape of alpine trees. The sky is bursting with the blossom of sunset, filled with a thousand shades of spectacular beauty as the sun sinks into the horizon for another day.

This place feels like the highlands of Coerthas but something is different. Whilst the air is refreshing after the dusty tunnels, it's bitter and cold, biting its way through the tiny spaces in her scale mail and leaving her feeling even more drained. There are snow-topped mountains in the distance and strangely absent are the songs of birds, so endemic in the grassy hillocks and tumbling vistas of Glory or Ever Lakes.

After they've make camp in a clearing, one of the Ixali warriors approaches on swift feet. At this point, Rose can barely stand but she stares the creature directly in the eyes, refusing to appear weak. Failing to dodge the incoming blade due to days of starvation numbing her senses, the woman is thrown sideways by sheer force; the collision of iron and drake scale bursting into the air with a resounding crash. Rose twists and falls awkwardly. Vision blurs and fades as her legs give up. Landing on the rocky ground at a bad angle tears something in her shoulder and the world instantly comes back into focus with screaming agony.

"What is this?" she hears a voice say, dull and faded through the pain. "Weak-minded scat!" There's a thumping sound and a squawk. "Get back to the camp. How dare you endanger the Great Wind's sacrifice with your petty grievances!"

Rose, curled up into a ball in a futile attempt to numb the agony, sobs on the ground. The silencing collar denies her any opportunity at an outlet and she can only watch through tear-blurred eyes as the Ixali seeress approaches. Adornments hanging around the she-bird's neck rattle as it picks Rose up off the ground and shoves her into a sitting position.

"Pathetic." The seeress glowers and pokes the afflicted shoulder with a bony talon. Fresh pain lances like liquid fire through Rose's veins and she shuts her eyes tight to block it out. One set of Ixali claws grasps her chin whilst the other hovers by the Elezen's shoulder. "Stop moving," the voice snaps and then summons healing magic, white and pure, into its captive's wound.

"I'm not sure which is worse. Having to waste mana on a pitiful smoothskin or being surrounded by ignorant fools from my own race. These barbarians I am forced to travel with, their heads are filled with bloodlust and little else."

Rose's injury eases from a blazing inferno into a dull ache, but the seeress still holds her chin tightly, pinching the flesh. Grey eyes bore into the Elezen's soft green counterparts then the she-bird continues.

"Our race is dying and all they can think of is war and revenge, throwing themselves on the blades of our enemies. You smoothskins don't know what real suffering is. If the fireball in the sky doesn't kill us all, then the hatred between our squabbling nations surely will. Eat and rest. Soon your life is forfeit and I don't see your mate here to rescue you." The she-bird roughly releases the woman's face and backs away, its withering scowl at war with Rose's steely, unrelenting stare.

"Why am I even bothering to waste my voice on you? Smoothskins don't understand."

Rose snatches the dry husk of bread thrown to her and devours it ravenously. Although the ground is hard and stony, she tries to make the best of it and retreats into her mind in an attempt to sleep. Thoughts of Kit warm her from within; memories of their time spent together are fluffy blankets and a comfortable pillow. If only he would come for her now. As she stares up at Dalamud blazing hot in the midnight sky, Rose can't help but wonder where her soulmate is.

As fate would have it, Kit is also gazing up at Dalamud in that instant, the flame-haired Elezen on his mind. Nervous excitement bubbles inside as he waits in the hallway of quarters assigned to Twin Adders personnel during their stay in Limsa Lominsa. A sea mist curls its way across the deserted stone passageway as the Flame Lieutenant stands at a window arch and looks out over the city. Most of the buildings are dark now, but the occasional square is lit up with golden light, paling into insignificance against the burgeoning crimson moon.

After what seems like an age, Serpent General Tsun Mhakarraka emerges from one of the rooms. The Miqo'te looks hastily dressed and half asleep, with a long yellow robe wrapped tightly around him to ward off the night chill.

"Are you aware of the time, lieutenant?" Tsun asks, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn. Before the Midlander can utter a single word he sets off down the corridor. "Not here. Follow me."

Both men are seated in a common room a short while later. Until the fire crackling into life at the hearth starts to spread its heat around the room, both the Hyur and Miqo'te sit huddled in padded armchairs and speak with cloudy breath. Kit, having outlined his plan, looks across at the other man, hopefully awaiting his reply.

"Back in Ul'dah when a pair of brothers disappeared, we went down this same avenue. The goblins were not so eager to trade information then. By all means, we can try lieutenant, but please don't pin all of your hopes on this. We're still to hear back from the O'Ghomoro party," Tsun states plainly.

The Midlander shakes his head and counters, "The difference being, this is Vylbrand. The goblins in Thanalan are very much in league with the Amalj'aa because of their trade routes. It makes them very wealthy and they won't jeopardise that relationship unless someone makes them a better offer." Kit shifts to the edge of the chair and leans forward, emphatically trying to make his point. "Vylbrand goblins, on the other hand, have no such foothold here because the Kobold mine and produce their own metals."

"And so you're theorising that they'll trade in other commodities instead?"

"Exactly." Kit shivers and rubs his upper arms with gloved hands in an attempt to warm up.

"But how are you going to communicate with them, let alone find one that will act as informant?"

The Flame Lieutenant hesitates and leans back into the chair, watching the Miqo'te all the while. Tsun's furred ears twitch and he returns the stare before getting up and checking the fire. In order to find Rose, Kit may well have to put himself in danger and trust those he normally wouldn't. He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"Myself and Rose have the Echo, along with Storm Corporal Westfield and a few others."

At this new piece of information, Tsun nods his head slowly and fixes his yellow eyes on the Midlander. Those who possess the Echo are a closely guarded secret and even the upper echelons of each Grand Company are only informed of this on a need to know basis.

"As you know, it lets us understand and speak any language, as well as being able to see into people's memories. So that's not an issue," Kit assures the general.

"Still, where are you going to find an informant?" Tsun asks and sits back down in the armchair with a dismissive wave. As much as he wants the Serpent Lieutenant back safe and sound, he cannot use his Company's resources on a plan he's somewhat sceptical about. That would be irresponsible.

The Midlander smiles, warmed now with the spirit of hope from within his own heart. "There's a man over in Wineport that owes me a favour."


	14. Fear in a Distant Place

**Chapter Thirteen – Fear in a Distant Place**

Arriving at Camp White Mountain is a shock to most of the small expedition and mere adjustment to the remaining few. Just a few moments earlier, they had been waiting at Limsa Lominsa's Aetheryte Plaza and sweating under the weight of winter garb on this fine summer's day. Before nervous anticipation has a chance to set in, there's the order to teleport and then they're transported hundred of malms in a matter seconds. From a temperate clime where the tang of sea salt lingers in the air to a wasteland tundra of permafrost, cold biting wind and far off rocky crags peppered with snow.

Like two others in the group, Kit struggles to catch his breath in this new climate and leans heavily on an outbuilding within the camp boundaries. Lungs stinging with freezing air, he glances about the foreign landscape of stone and ice.

"Welcome to Dravania," their Miqo'te tracker calls out. Salsie Soom is a diminutive woman with dusky grey skin offset wildly by alabaster hair and stark blue eyes. Her demeanour is unexpectedly cheerful despite the situation. "Even fiery Dalamud can't melt the cold heart of this region."

As the group gathers indoors to plan their next move, Serpent General Tsun catches Kit by the arm and says in a hushed voice, "Lieutenant. If I could have a moment."

They walk out towards the aetheryte crystal, shimmering blue amongst a backdrop of white and grey. Tsun's face is etched with concern. "The small party I sent out to O'Ghomoro just got back."

"Did they find anything?" Kit asks, looking at the other man expectantly.

Tsun nods and places one hand against the largest crystal. It hums beneath his touch. "They found the body of an Elezen. He was murdered and in poor condition when they found him."

"All the way out there? Do you think it was the kidnapper?" the Midlander asks.

"Preliminary findings name him as Serpent Colonel Rambussey Moreau, one of those we had suspected. Until I get back to Company headquarters they won't tell me much more over the linkshell."

Kit sighs. As much as the information ties up with what he's been told by the goblins, it doesn't bring him any closer to finding Rose. Especially in this barren place, where upon arriving his concern had risen substantially. His beloved was last seen wearing drake scale armour and he imagines her captors forcing her to sleep rough on the ground with no blankets, no cover or warm food in her belly. The last image in his mind splinters off into unwelcome branches of thought, of grim consequences and dire choices, of suffering and pain. Blood upon the pure white snow. His legs weaken beneath him.

"Are you okay, lieutenant?" Tsun asks, angling his head and looking at the Midlander with concern.

"No," Kit breathes, terrified, "We have to find her right now."

Serpent General Tsun Mhakarraka exhales, his breath like cloudy white dragon fire in the frigid atmosphere. Privately, he has doubts as to whether they'll find the woman alive, if at all, but he has to remain positive for the Flame Lieutenant. Perhaps even for himself.

Each and every Adder that has disappeared due to the machinations of this traitor he has felt a personal responsibility for. With so many people under his command, it's sometimes difficult to remember that each is an individual with a life outside of the Grand Company. Those individuals have dreams, they plan their futures, enjoy time with friends, fall in love and marry, have children. And ultimately, that's what they're all fighting for. Dalamud and the Garleans be damned.

Tsun composes his thoughts and checks his emotions, shifting silently back into Company mode. Putting his arm around Kit's shoulders in support, he leads him towards the cabin where the muffled voices of their expedition members escape through the barely open door. "Come. Let's check our route then we can head out and find her."

Rose, meanwhile, is already on the move. The cart's wooden wheels aren't suited to harsh terrain like this and so it clatters loudly behind the hippogryph pulling its weight, surely as inconspicuous as a behemoth crashing through the forest with all the noise. All four Ixali guards are fanned out in front of the tottering vehicle in a defensive formation, whilst the seeress sits securely on the beast's saddle. Their nervous whispers and the way at which each of them is constantly looking back and forth across the landscape hints at a hidden danger; one at which the cart isn't helping to deter.

Warmer at least with the dead man's cloak wrapped around her body, Rose thinks back to a breakfast of water so cold it made her teeth ache and that hunk of charred meat, cooked on a hasty campfire. What it came from, she has no idea. Who knows what strange prey makes this land their home. The thought of food makes her stomach rumble in protest just as the sickly sweet odour of dried blood floats up from the stained linen cloth, forcing the hunger into retreat.

Perhaps they are confident that she has nowhere to run, but the Ixali had cut the ties binding Rose's hands before they set out this morning. Instead, they tied a long rope around her midriff and attached it to the cart, giving her a surprising amount of range at the back. Little do they know, that's all the freedom a desperate woman needs.

Rose stares at the wooden hatch, wondering if she can get away with it again so soon. The first time she did it, her heart was pounding so fiercely within her chest she feared that these hideous bird-people would hear it even over the cacophony of rattling wheels. But they didn't. Nor were they alerted the second time, or third, or fourth. Each attempt is to risk everything. If the Ixali catch her they'll surely knock the woman unconscious and throw her back into the darkness, then she'll have no hope of leading Kit to her; if he is even out here. But a hope is a hope nonetheless.

Breathing steadily to calm her nerves, Rose steels herself for another round and quickens her pace to catch up with the cart. Just as I practiced, she says to herself, exactly like the other times. When the deed is done and it falls to the ground with a melodic tinkle, the hippogryph and all four Ixali stop dead. Silence thunders in the Elezen's sensitive ears. Perhaps this was one attempt too far.


	15. Discovery

**Chapter Fourteen - Discovery**

At any other time in his life, this place would appear beautiful and serene to Kit Hallym. White mist hanging like a delicate curtain in the air, stoic pine trees festooned with fragrant needles, panoramic views of mountain and valley not likely found elsewhere and the certainty that you're alone up here, truly, because you won't find another soul for malms.

When you're desperate to find a loved one in this environment though, it's an entirely different story. Everything is working against you, trying to stop you in an infinite number of ways. Kit sighs as he tries to calm his mind and unwind the tension knotting itself into his stomach. Two of the group are ahead scouting and Tsun is covering the rear, whilst he and a Highlander woman are left to walk the stony path stretching endlessly before them.

"She's out there, sir. We're close." So cleanly does the voice break the silence, it almost startles the Midlander.

"Until I find her I'll not rest," he remarks, staring ahead through the frosty mist. "But thank you."

"Smart girl too, leaving a trail," the woman continues. Kit smiles then, remembering his reaction when they found the first wind cluster and then his surge of hope at the second, rising exponentially at each subsequent one.

Despite everything her captors have put her through, Rose still manages to defy them. His heart aches with longing for her, colluding with the barely controlled urge to run ahead along the path and not wait for the trackers to return safely. To hell with caution. He shifts the Garuda's Van strapped to his back into a secure position and turns to the Highlander.

"Look, I'm going to..." Kit begins but stops as a low whistle pitches through the still air. In an instant, Tsun is back with them and Salsie is breaking out of the dense forest at their right, running at full pelt. She runs up to the Serpent General and whispers hastily into his ear, pointing at various directions in turn.

"What happened?" the Midlander demands once the whispering stops, "Did they find her?"

"Lower your voice, lieutenant," Tsun urges and moves a step closer to him. Furred ears twitch around curiously as their owner continues to look ahead along the path. It's only then that Kit spots the second tracker's head peering out from amongst the pine trees. A flurry of hand gestures are exchanged and then Salsie is off into the forest again, followed closely by Tsun and the raven-haired Highlander woman.

Coming to a stop partway inside the freezing shade of the forest, Kit again asks what's going on, his breath puffing out in hurried clouds of white.

"Lieutenant Marceaux is just ahead. She..." Tsun has to practically leap at the escaping Midlander and grab his winter coat, yanking the man around to face him. "Listen to me! Do not act in haste, else you will endanger her life and your own!" He waits until Kit stops struggling in his grasp. "Garuda is here. What we did not expect is for the gnole to confront her directly out in the open."

"No!" Kit cries out, desperation and elation jostling for superiority inside of him. "Where? We have to go. She needs us. Now!"

Tsun stares into the man's chestnut-brown eyes, weighing up decisions at a lightning-quick pace. "Come with me. Know this, I will not hesitate to subdue you should you feel the need to do something foolish, Flame Lieutenant. It matters not to me which Grand Company you're in nor whether you believe you can save Ms. Marceaux by yourself."

"Fine! I don't care. Do what you want. Just take me to her!" Kit pulls his coat from the Miqo'te's firm grip. Salsie Soom melts into the darkness like a ghost, leaving the three remaining expedition members to make their way across scattered pine needles and long-dead branches carpeting the forest floor. When they get to the forest's edge, Kit can't quite believe the scene playing out before them.


	16. Ambushed by Shadow

**Chapter Fifteen – Ambushed by Shadow**

Serpent Lieutenant Rose Marceaux is almost certain when the silence crashes all around that her plan has finally been scuppered. It was only a matter of time after such a flagrant disregard for the freedom they'd granted her, surely.

But the Ixali guards don't turn around. Instead, they face off into the thick swath of pine forest and unsheathe weapons from scabbards, chitter in urgent tones and glance back at their seeress for guidance. The she-bird remains seated on the hippogryph's saddle, its ornate horn staff and Rose's prized lance criss-crossing against its green cloaked back. As the horned head whips back and forth frantically, beads rattle and feathers bob with anxiety suffusing every panicked movement.

Dark figures slink out of the trees, black and smooth like an extension of the shadow itself. Within a matter of seconds they have the cart surrounded and Rose can only gasp at their swiftness, moving with the unmatched pace of deadly hunters. One lone individual steps forwards to confront the group and it's then Rose gets a good look at their aggressors.

If the Ixali are tall, these wolf-people are taller still, towering over the former by at least a fulm each. Covered head to toe in shaggy fur, they have long muzzled faces and bright appraising eyes and whilst plated leather armour protects most of their bodies, sharp-clawed hands and feet poke out from underneath. A scimitar or short-sword hangs at every individual's hip, steel or polished cobalt judging by how the metal reflects Dravania's glorious alpine sunshine.

"What's this?" the lone wolf growls as he folds massive arms across a broad and armoured chest. "A pack of scraggy birds travelling through gnole territory? Don't recall giving you permission to do such a thing."

Sitting up in the saddle, she-bird speaks. "We are passing through. Do not make more of it than that."

Tilting his head to the side, the lone wolf grins and then laughs out loud, moving a step closer to the hippogryph and its rider. It takes an instant for all traces of amusement to evaporate and be replaced by snarling aggression. "I don't care for your tone, bird. You find yourselves in a perilous situation and so I suggest you hold back your sharp tongue, lest I tear it out."

Rose can feel the tension precariously weighted in the air like glass, wont to shatter at any moment. They say that the enemy of your enemy is a friend, but in this case the Elezen woman isn't confident of that fact at all. Padding around to the hippogryph's side, the wolf notices the artefact - Rose's rare Garuda's Beak – and plucks it curiously from the she-bird's back. Incidentally, that is a very bad move on his part.

Like a whirlwind, one of the Ixali guards spins around and slashes at the wolf leader with its sword. Blood splatters onto the stony ground. An outraged roar shakes the air. There's a single moment of silence, a fraction of a delay where time stands still, before every single one of the aggressors flies into action. Trapped between beastmen factions, Rose dives towards the cart whilst screams and battle noises thunder all around.

When she opens her eyes and looks up, four Ixali lie dead on the ground in various states of dismemberment and the seeress is standing over the slaughtered hippogryph, frozen in some kind of trance. A sword passes cruelly through the she-bird's slender body; one vicious swipe cleaves the left arm from its shoulder but still it stands, unmoving and stoic. The cart lights up with an emerald glow and is shaking violently, ringing with the sound of wind clusters within.

There's a howl like a hurricane and the seeress finally gives up living as her task is done. Garuda materialises before them all, feathered and furious into the mortal world.


	17. Moonshade and Hurricane Force

**Chapter Sixteen – A Clash of Moonshade and Hurricane Force**

"Fools! Such useless FOOLS!" A screeching voice rips through the air itself as the wolf-men stagger back in retreat. "How dare you impede ME. How dare you sully MY presence with your filthy claws and your ragged little faces."

Garuda turns then to Rose and a burst of wind lifts the Elezen off the ground, shearing the rope around her waist in two. "YOU! Trickster! WORM! Where is the man? So I can slaughter you BOTH and turn the prizes you STOLE back into beautiful aether. WHERE!"

Screaming wind whips Rose's scarlet locks and lashes her face, holds her hands and legs fast like invisible cuffs in a prison cell. At the peripheral of her vision, she sees the wolf-men gathering into a single group and tending their wounded. One of them roars in defiance, attracting Garuda's attention for a mere second before she howls with evil laughter. Rose's head already aches from dehydration and hunger, but with the whine of the tempest it's made even worse. At once, a wall of pressure slams down around the wind eikon and her prey. Spinning fast and dangerous is a tornado, blurring everything beyond its edges.

"No UNWANTED interruptions!" Black bird-like eyes bore into Rose. The eikon pauses, wings quivering with wind aether as a wicked grin splays across her cruel face. "What's this? A SECRET kept hidden. But this is even better!" She floats over to the Elezen and scrapes a claw across the drake scale covering Rose's stomach. It crumbles as if made of ancient parchment and Garuda's sickle-like finger rakes into flesh, spattering blood outwards and into the raging cyclone.

Watching all of the horrifying proceedings is Kit, still hidden amongst the trees. Beset by grief, he leaps to break cover but Tsun's Miqo'te reflexes are quicker and he grabs the Midlander's leg, hauls him back into the forest with incredible strength.

"Don't be a fool!" Tsun dodges a blow aimed at his head. "If you go out there, Garuda will kill you both."

"And wait for Rose to be slaughtered before my eyes? I'd rather die trying to save her. Let go of me!"

"Kit, use your head!" The general forces the other man into an arm-lock and shouts down at him, struggling against the sound of howling wind. "The gnole are summoning. Garuda and the Dark Wolf are mortal enemies and this is his territory. That vitriolic bitch won't harm Rose until she has what she wants. You walk out there and you're giving her that."

Inside the raging tornado the wind eikon cocks her head like a curious sparrow and screeches with evil laughter. The bloodied claw she used to wound Rose comes up and snaps the silencing collar off in one blurry movement. "SCREAM! Let him hear you SUFFER! Make him bring it to me!"

It's partly exhaustion sapping every shred of energy from her body, but the Wildwood woman refuses to give in. If Kit, wherever he is, lives due to her silence, then so be it. Garuda bristles angrily at her prey's mute rebellion. "Weak-minded FOOL! Are you so blind in your so-called devotion that you fail to see he's a COWARD? He HIDES in shadow. He leaves you to DIE. To be torn ASUNDER upon my glorious winds! You and the spark of life within you!"

Above, bright afternoon sky darkens to pitch as the gnole complete their summoning rite. With a howl that rumbles boulders and sends scree scattering across the wasteland ground, Fenrir roars into life.

His colossal form shakes the earth as he lands; a magnificent wolf of indigo and white, all snarling jaws and unblinking red eyes. In the unnatural turbulence created by Garuda's presence, Fenrir's tail whips back and forth like a celestial comet as he walks, slowly circling the other eikon as a predator stalks its prey. A mere flick of his fanged head and the Great Wind is imprisoned in a ball of shadow, cancelling out her wind magic.

"So far from the safety of its nest, I do wonder what will happen once the bird has its wings clipped." Fenrir's voice is deep and reverberating, edged with a growling threat. Without Garuda's power to hold her captive any longer, Rose falls heavily to the ground and lies there, unmoving. It's all the opportunity Kit needs to dash out of the forest and haul Rose over his shoulder, making for the safety of the trees once again whilst both eikons are distracted.

As the forces of eternal moonshade and howling gale duel in the clearing, Kit carefully lowers Rose to the forest floor and calls her name urgently. Appearing at his side is the Highlander who immediately begins to work on healing the slashed midriff and countless tiny wounds made by Garuda's tearing winds.

"Kit..." The Elezen's voice cracks as she stares up at her rescuer. All remaining energy goes into a tender caress along his cheek before the woman falls unconscious, a weak smile fixed upon her lips.


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

When the Wildwood Elezen next wakes, she's in a bed surrounded by light. Sunshine floods in through an open window and the air is clean, fragrant with the scent of summer blossoms floating on a breeze. Rose's eyes flutter closed at the familiar trill of forest larks weaving their songs, the rustle of oak leaves and far off trickle of a distant stream. There is only one place she can be; home in Gridania.

Turning her head to the left, she sees Kit Hallym, her soulmate, fast asleep in a chair by the bed. Slowly so as not to disturb him, she reaches out and strokes his arm, gently entwines her fingers with his. Kit looks so serene and the woman never wants to forget him being this way. The image of him at peace imprints itself onto her soul for safekeeping; for those times she's ever plunged back into the darkness. He'll be there with her, always.

Darkness. Silence. Horror. Memories rush back into her mind like a torrent, quick and unrelenting. Rose's hand dips down under the covers and onto her stomach, feeling the heavy gauze padding over the wound. She panics, checks all over her body for other injuries, broken bones, lost limbs. The commotion wakes Kit, who stretches and yawns languorously before realising what's going on.

"Hey, calm down. It's okay," Kit says, clutching at Rose's hands to quell her hysteria. "It's okay."

She stares at him wide-eyed, fear-struck and confused. "Is everything alright? I mean..."

"You're fine," he interjects, smiling down at her. "Just need lots of rest and to take it easy for a while."

"What happened, Kit? Up on the mountain."

And so Kit tells the tale of how Fenrir and Garuda fought; the former beating the latter into retreat after a legendary brawl. So far away from her summoning circle and with only a depleted supply of wind clusters available to her, the weakened Great Wind fled into the aetherial realm, proverbial tail between her legs.

After some investigation, the conspirator who worked with the Ixali to kidnap and murder those who had triumphed over Garuda in fair battle was never found. The dark deeds, surmised to be carried out in greed for beastmen currency, were attributed to the dead man found at the base of the O'Ghomoro volcano. A traitor, a snake within the Twin Adders' midst.

The gnole, in return for their unexpected aid and summoning of the Dark Wolf, were given both Garuda artefacts – the Van and Beak – in thanks. The gesture served a double-fold purpose; not only did it throw any further acts of revenge away from Rose and Kit, but it set in motion the start of a relationship between the beast tribe and Eorzea's city folk. One which would need much time and patience, but a bond nonetheless.

The rest, they say, is history. Heroes live to fight another day. Love and honour shine through the darkness with radiant splendour. The time of Dalamud's fall will come, and then all will be judged; for better or worse.

Over the next few days, visitors stop by the house to see how the brave woman is doing. Some, like Matlock and Somello Bacchiatore, bring her little gifts and stay to talk a while, laughing about happier times. Others just stick their heads around the door and wish her well, their modest salutations still bringing happiness to her day. Even Serpent General Tsun makes an appearance.

When evening falls, Kit is lying next to her on the bed, softly stroking his fingers along Rose's cheek. She looks across at him and smiles then, says in a hale and hearty voice, "So, when are we going to visit the last symbol?"


End file.
